Left to my Own Devices
by Rettastarkidklainer
Summary: After the Sadie Hawkins dance, Blaine is on a difficult road to recovery and temporarily wheelchair bound. How will he handle it when his parents have to leave him home alone for a week?


**Blangst Prompt of the Day fill. Prompt # 422**

 **Prompt: Blaine is in a wheelchair and his parents are gone for the weekend. He falls, breaking his arm, and can't get up or reach a phone. There are still days left until his parents are expected home.**

 **Disclaimer: slightly changed, I don't own glee, nor am I a doctor, I just watch Grey's Anatomy.**

"Ok Blainey, you're sure you'll be ok?"  
"Yeah mom, I'll be fine." Blaine had been home from hospital following an attack at a Sadie Hawkins dance and he was wheelchair bound while his broken hip was healing. His parents had had their trip to Italy planned for months and he'd managed to convince them he'd be fine staying home alone for a week. He didn't have to go to school and they'd stocked the house up with food so he'd be fine. He'd been managing his way around the house in his wheelchair since getting home. She was worrying about nothing.  
"Just go already mom. I know I can call Mrs Gunderson if I need any help but no one will be checking in on me. Thanks for the independence."  
"I'm just worried about you baby."  
"Don't be. Just bring me back a present."  
"Just call your brother at least once so he knows you're ok."

That was Sunday. The next three days were great. He watched movies and ate the whole time. Thursday was the problem. He decided today was a good day to call Cooper. He didn't have his cell on him, it was in his room on the other side of the house and he was feeling lazy so he decided to use the landline. The only problem was that the phone was too high for him to reach. That didn't stop him from trying though, but when he reached up to grab it he lost his balance and fell out of his wheelchair. He put his arms out to brace himself but landed wrong and felt his bone snap. The pain had barely any time to register before his head smacked against the cold, tiled floor, knocking him out.

When Blaine came to, his head was pounding. He had no idea why it hurt so much. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them, the light hurting his head even more. It slowly dawned on him that he had a concussion, he'd had them before and recognised the symptoms; he needed some aspirin. He opened his eyes again, slower this time, adjusting to the light. He lifted his head and noticed a small pool of blood where it had been, he still didn't know what happened. He tried getting up and was hit with a massive wave of pain that almost sent him back into unconsciousness. His arm was in so much pain and his hip was killing him. That was when he remembered, he'd fallen out of his wheelchair trying to reach the phone, and he must've broken his arm and got the concussion when he landed. Blaine started to panic for a moment, his legs were practically useless while his hip was healing and he now only had one working arm. He couldn't get up, he couldn't move. He was stuck lying on his kitchen floor until someone could come and help him, which could be days.

The longer Blaine lay there, the more his pain increased. Even worse than that was his increasing need to relieve himself. The pressure became so much that he couldn't restrain himself any longer, and soiled himself. He started crying because of his situation. Now not only was he stuck lying on his kitchen floor with a broken arm and useless legs, but he was lying in his own waste. He'd been trying to remain conscious, knowing that the alternative would only make his concussion worse, but at 9pm, twelve hours after he first fell, he thankfully passed out.

Friday and Saturday passed and Blaine remained unconscious, not regaining consciousness since passing out Thursday night. It was almost a good thing, had he been conscious he would've been delirious with hunger.

"Hi, you've reached the Anderson's. Sorry we can't get to the phone at the moment. Please leave your name, number and a brief message and we'll get back to you."  
"Hi Blainey, it's your mom. I know it's the middle of the night there so I didn't expect you to answer. Listen, the weather is really bad here, our flight's been cancelled and we won't be able to leave for another 48 hours. That means we won't get home until late Tuesday your time. Remember to call Mrs Gunderson if you need anything. Ok, bye darling, I love you!"

On Tuesday at 4:23pm in Columbus, Ohio, the Anderson's Lexus pulled up in their driveway. "Blainey, we're- oh, what on earth is that smell?!"  
"Blaine? Son?" Devon Anderson saw no sign of the 15 year old and so he ventured further into the house. "Blaine? Where-" he stopped short. He'd walked into the kitchen to see Blaine on the floor, legs trapped under his wheelchair, arm bent at an unnatural angle and completely unconscious. Also the foul smell that filled the house seemed to be emitting from him. "MARIE! CALL 911!" He bent down to check Blaine's pulse which was weak at best, and his breathing which was shaky and virtually non-existent, he was also ice cold. How long had he been lying there?

Hours later, Devon and Marie had since been let into their son's hospital room. He'd broken his right arm in two places, had a severe concussion, was malnourished and had severe dehydration. He currently had a tube down his nose to replenish the nutrients his body had been deprived of for days, he also had multiple IV's administering fluids and pain killers, and his right arm was covered in a cast that went past his elbow. On top of all of that, Blaine was still unconscious, the only difference being that now he was in an induced coma to give his body a chance to heal.

It wasn't until the following Sunday, a week since the Anderson's were initially due home, that he finally woke. It took half an hour from when he first wriggled his fingers to when he actually woke up but Marie and Devon couldn't have been more relieved. "Mommy," he croaked. "Please don't leave me home alone again."


End file.
